Laundry
by crabby crab
Summary: The soft flapping of the fabric soothed him, let him forget, for a second, what had just occurred and the presence waiting at his back, waiting for him to return to reality and deal with what had just been unleashed. Ren/Ichi.
1. Laundry

This is one of the first fics I ever wrote, so I'm rather fond of it, despite its problems. There are two more parts after this, that I'll be posting slowly but surely. :)

I'd love reviews and concrit, lemme know what you think!

**Laundry**

He focused only on the stiff, rough feeling of the cloth as it slid against his fingers. The breeze was gentle on his face, and he briefly closed his eyes to let it caress him. His hands moved automatically as he folded the jeans and placed them in the laundry basket, noting absently as he did so that he needed more fabric softener. He watched, almost from a distance, as his hands reached back up to unpin a shirt from the line. The soft flapping of the fabric soothed him, let him forget, for a second, what had just occurred and the presence waiting at his back, waiting for him to return to reality and deal with what had just been unleashed.

*****

Renji couldn't help noticing both the falseness of Ichigo's smile as he turned away from the clothes line, a shirt fluttering in his hands, and its very realness. In anyone else, such a smile could have been called genuine, but on Kurosaki Ichigo, it shrieked of discomfort. Ichigo did not smile. Perhaps he smirked, or even grinned, but Renji had never seen what most would call an actual smile on the man's face in all the long years of their friendship. His heartbeat thundering in his ears and tension restricting the usually easy movements of his body, he could still perceive the forcedness of Ichigo's laughter.

"Very funny, Renji," Ichigo said a little too loudly, again laughing that artificial laugh. "You're being more straightforward than usual. I expect more out of your jokes, now. A good, long set up, and then an unexpected finale, that's what I'm used to. I mean, geez, you could've snuck around for awhile behind my back and gotten me good, especially since you knew I wasn't expecting you to come to the living world until next week. You're losing your touch, Abari."

"I'm not joking," Renji shot back angrily, a touch of uncertainty creeping into his face, pulling down his elaborately tattooed brows. "I wouldn't joke about this." He took another step forward on the balcony. "Knowin' me as long as ya have, you know when I'm being serious. And I don't think I have to tell ya that I'm being completely serious when I say that I love you."

*****

Shock froze his body even as he worked furiously to remain normal, to give nothing away to the man in front of him. The man who he had loved, for years. Ichigo's chest ached, and his tongue worked in his throat, but he could not form the words. He thought he was choking. His fingers clenched around the still-unfolded t-shirt.

He had seen Renji around Rukia for too long not to understand what it meant. Not to notice the way he watched her at all times. He couldn't win against that kind of devotion, he had no chance. Usually Ichigo won his battles, and oftentimes through the sheer force of his will, the force of his own belief. He would not let himself consider the possibility that he would lose, and then it seemed he never did. But not in this case.

For too long he had thought of this moment, idly and intensely, both toying with it and analyzing it. Years had passed, and he had given up, quietly, without ever declaring himself. "How unlike you," he knew the others would say. And it was unlike him, not even trying. But the danger was so great in this instance, far too great for him to risk on a mere dream. Love was far out of reach, but friendship, companionship, that was already his. Why would he risk losing the one thing which consoled him for the tiny possibility of that which tormented him?

His mind was racing, and yet, at the same time, completely empty. The part of himself calmly removed from what was happening noted the strangeness of Kurosaki Ichigo being unable to take action. Ichigo stayed frozen by his laundry basket, his shirt clutched in his hands like a lifeline thrown to someone drowning, staring at the man he loved.

*****

Renji saw the sudden change in Ichigo's stance, the immobility which seemed to strike him at his words, even through his own unease. He had been so certain, had thought he had seen the signs, had thought he would be reciprocated. The falseness Ichigo had replied with had been both a slap and a favor, an offer to forget what was happening on the tiny balcony of his apartment and attempt to return to the relationship they had both seemed satisfied with for so many years. But that was impossible now. Renji suddenly saw the implications of rejection in that moment of quiet, the change and loss it would cause.

And then he saw the fear in Ichigo's deep brown eyes, something he so rarely saw there he had trouble comprehending what it was he was glimpsing, and at last, he understood. Relief flooded him, and the uncertainty which had been growing by the moment fled in the face of it.

He took a final step forward, his abdomen brushing the tips of Ichigo's fingers where they were held awkwardly in front of his body. He leaned down, casually, resting his forehead against Ichigo's own, noting that Ichigo did nothing to avoid the touch. "Ya know," he said, conversationally, "I've known Rukia for a very, very long time. A lotta shinigami've got certain ideas about us, and who could blame 'em? I've got history with her that can't compare to anything else. She's all that's left of the only family I've ever had, and when I had a chance ta be close to her again, I grabbed it and didn't let go. I looked out for her, even though I knew it'd piss her off. I wanted to keep that family safe, however much things had changed between us."

Renji brought the hands which had been attempting to rest casually in his pockets up to the sides of Ichigo's face and gently let them curve around his cheeks, bringing Ichigo's face and eyes up to meet his own. "I may have been keeping watch over her all this time, paying more obvious attention to 'er, but the one I've been fallin' for is you, ya jackass." He moved forward slowly as he spoke, and almost whispered the last few words into Ichigo's lips, before slowly, deliberately, brushing his own against the man before him.

*****

Ichigo's heart ached, and he could not have said if it was sadness or joy which caused the spasm as the words fell so easily from Renji's lips, the words he'd wanted so badly to hear, and had been to afraid to say himself. As Renji's lips touched his own, sensation and intelligence returned to him in a rush, and he was suddenly aware of the t-shirt he still held, one of his favorites, and so well-worn it was smooth in his sweaty hands despite the lack of fabric softener. It dropped carelessly to the floor, as in a rush, with an eagerness and longing born of years of disappointment, Ichigo deepened what had been a chaste kiss.

Renji was the one who finally pulled back, panting. He could not help the cocky smile which spread across his face. "I take it that you ain't too opposed to the idea of us together, eh?"

Ichigo's characteristic scowl was softened by the pink which graced his cheeks, as he turned and stared up into the cloudless sky. "Never was. Just too scared to grab for it." The blush faded as he spoke, turning back to look Renji clearly in the eye. "Too worried about what I'd lose if I failed. And about how we'd change, how our relationships with everybody else would change." Rukia's presence haunted these words, unspoken but there.

Renji became serious then. "Rukia ain't going anywhere because of this, and neither is anybody else. Besides," he said with another smile, this one softer and filled with warmth, "your friends have stuck with you through weirder shit than this."

Ichigo thought about it, and had to agree.


	2. Dirty Laundry, Part 1

This is a sequel to my fic Laundry. It's a two-parter, I'll post the second part soon. ;D Enjoy! Reviews and concrit are lurve.

**Dirty Laundry**

Ichigo snuck a quick look at Renji as he sat across from him, the massive pile of laundry tossed carelessly on the living room floor between them, and marveled at the situation. He looked quickly back down at the pile of shirts he had been folding and reached once again into the mess of clothes to pull out another to add to it. Renji was attempting to find and match socks, grumbling as he did about the wide variety of _almost_ identical white socks Ichigo owned.

It felt so strangely homey and unremarkable after the massive shock of the last hour. After a neighbor's voice had broken into their joint reverie, he had quickly realized the potential dangers of continuing to stand on the balcony with Renji, namely that the neighbors might see him enthusiastically making out with another man. Ichigo had hastily pulled the remaining laundry off the line and moved inside to finish the folding, and their conversation.

Unfortunately, while the balcony had seemed to be a refuge, somehow faraway and insubstantial, moving into the apartment's living room pulled them both back, reality returning to loom over the both of them. The atmosphere had become more than a little awkward. The unexpected tension between them, the sudden uncertainty of what this new facet in their relationship meant for their casual interactions, hit the pair as soon as feet touched tatami. After a few minutes of sadly uncomfortable attempts to start talking again, Ichigo began to fold things in desperation and Renji gratefully followed suit.

Ichigo wasn't quite sure what to do with himself; the worry which had paralyzed him for ten years had been wiped away in an instant. He had shaped his interactions with Renji around the assumption of his love for Rukia only to have it refuted, and he felt the loss of the belief which had steadied him with its harshness.

The laundry was slowly running out, a visual indicator of just how long they could continue to avoid the subject, and despite his discomfort Ichigo couldn't help his sudden flaring of curiosity. He cleared his throat as he shot Renji a questioning glance, asking with a touch of hesitation, "When did you realize?" Renji, relieved that the silence had been broken, laughed lightly at the memory. "Not too long ago. Ya know that intense training we'd been doing 'bout six months ago?" Ichigo's faint nod was all the encouragement Renji needed to launch into his story.

"Well, Shuhei and Ikkaku'd been tryin' to get me ta go drinking for ages, but I'd been busy with our training. And of course that had me shufflin' back 'n forth from Soul Society to Karakura, plus all the regular duties I've had'ta keep up with. After I turned Shuhei down for about the fifth time so I could get back ta our training, he got pissed and said, 'Well, fuck, Renji, you must be in love with the guy, 'cause he sure as hell sees more of you than we do.' And it hit me. It was damn true. I _wanted_ ta spend my spare time with you, even if it _was_ just fer trainin', instead of goin' drinking yet again with the same old crew." His wide grin stretched even farther. "And ya know when I turn down booze, it's gotta be serious."

Ichigo couldn't help rolling his eyes, but a small grin spread across his own face as he did. He returned to his folding with images of Renji's face upon realization splashing across his mind. He lost himself in them for a second until Renji broke in, smirking and wriggling those obscene eyebrows of his, "How 'bout you? When'd you realize what a handsome training partner ya had?" The question may have been innocent, but Ichigo could not help blanching slightly, and feeling the quick drainage of blood from his face only disconcerted him further. He knew he had more control than this. He kept his eyes down, forcing them away from Renji's so firmly they began to ache as he once again focused on his task. "Well, I realized I was attracted to you right after the war ended." He shrugged, shoulders lifting uncomfortably while his hands busied themselves with the final shirt. "We'd been together a lot, seen a lot."

He flicked his eyes upwards for a second, disconcerted by the intensity of Renji's gaze. Inwardly he cursed. The way that man could read him sometimes…he took a deep breath, relishing the brief release the stretch of lung and skin gave him before continuing. "It was difficult to get used to the idea that I wanted a man, but after all the weird shit I'd seen, it didn't seem like the worst problem in the world to have to deal with. But the closer I watched you, the more I figured you were waiting for Rukia to notice your own feelings and come to you, so I just backed off without ever pursuing anything. Didn't want to screw anything up between all of us, you know?"

Renji was still watching him with that hawkish expression. He had found something significant in Ichigo's behavior, and Renji would make him reveal it regardless of whether he wanted to or not. "Hey, I was talkin' about when I realized I loved ya, not when I realized I was starting to think you looked hotter than Matsumoto in your bankai outfit. Ya gotta give me the same info here." Though his words were playful, his tone was decidedly not.

The thrill and anxiety of the afternoon had already left Ichigo wound tighter than usual and he felt the anger flood through him, shredding through his battered restraint as his eyes shot up to challenge Renji's own. Renji's persistence had irritated him more than once before, but today was worse. "I told you enough, didn't I? Why do you have to press me on this? For fuck's sake, just leave it be for once!" His voice was rising with every sentence and worry about the neighbors had completely fled his mind. He needed that anger; it pushed away some of the shame.

Renji exploded with equal force, his face reddening to match his hair. "If it ain't that important, why're ya getting so worked up about it your own damn self? Seems ta me, if we're in a relationship one of the stupidest things you should have ta hide is when the fuck you realized you loved me." Ichigo was still staring at Renji defiantly when the words hit him and he looked away again, a grimace tightening his brows and lips. Renji could feel wrongness in Ichigo's posture, and the hurt at his attempt to hide such a thing tore through the delicate balance which he had attempted to establish with his own story.

Ichigo felt his chest tighten with remembered pain, cutting off the simple release of breath and transforming it into something to be labored after. "You remember that girl I was dating, about seven years ago?" Renji felt confusion rush through him at the change of subject. "Yeah, I think so. That pretty little thing I met a few times, um, what was it…Nitori something?" Ichigo nodded slowly, keeping eye contact. He didn't want to look away now. "Yuri. She was a sweet girl, and smart. Maybe a bit too serious. I'd dated a couple of girls before her, but the relationships usually never got past a month or two." His lips quirked in a strangled grin. "Hard for most people to handle my routines when I can't explain them."

He sighed as he fully committed to the idea of having to tell Renji about one of the most difficult moments in his life. "She held on for some reason. Didn't bother me about the cancelled dates or the strange hours I kept. She was some of the best company I'd had in ages when I could actually manage to see her." He settled his arms across his knees, letting his hands flop emptily into his lap, his gaze floating down with his fingers. He had thought he could do it, but he didn't want to see the reaction, the pity.

"One night, right after we'd had sex, she turns to me and says we should break up. Of course I was a bit surprised. Normally I wouldn't have bothered to ask her why since I usually knew, but she sure as hell could time things." He shook his head slowly, a wry smirk on his face as he watched his fingers begin to intertwine. "My pride took a hit at that. But nothing hurt worse than when she told me, flat out, that having sex with me was one of the loneliest things she'd ever experienced. Said I was a gentleman, a good listener, and kind, and even that I made all the right motions in the bedroom, but there was no passion there to back it up, no real feeling." Ichigo paused briefly, glancing out the balcony doors at the almost unnaturally blue sky as he instinctively ran his fingers through his hair.

"The others never really noticed, and hell, even I didn't notice, or tried not to, anyways, but then again the others weren't as smart as Yuri." He looked up again and his eyes were dull with remembrance. "That's when I fully realized what she meant. What I felt for you was more than just attraction or lust, and I'd never really gotten over it." Ichigo gave a soft, bitter laugh. "If I couldn't muster up enough enthusiasm for someone as good as Yuri, I probably wouldn't get over it. I had to accept that, and I did, but it was hard as hell." Ichigo leaned back, stretching, then roughly gathered the last of the folded clothes back into the laundry basket in a failed attempt to regain some composure.

It was Renji's turn to blanch. "How long ago was this again?" Ichigo unhurriedly pulled himself up from the living room floor, his spine seeming to roll up onto itself in a slow reassembly. He ignored the question, hoping that for once Renji would take the goddamn hint and let him keep a little dignity. "How long?" The emphasis in Renji's voice told him it was too much to hope for. He turned, facing the man that had caused him so much grief that at times he wished he could simply hate him and be done with it. "Seven years."

Renji felt the two simple words hitting him like the reproach it wasn't meant to be as Ichigo lifted the laundry basket and walked back into his bedroom. He felt stunned and at fault. This man had loved him for so long with no hope, and he had never noticed until his own emotions became clear to him. He had always thought that he knew Ichigo better than almost anybody else in Soul Society except maybe Rukia.

He had even noticed when Ichigo had stopped having more intense relationships, but no one really thought much of it; Ichigo's lifestyle truly was a difficult one for most of the living to accept when they couldn't be told all the details. But regardless, every once in a while somebody new would try to take him on, attracted by Ichigo's body and brooding temperament, only to become unhappy when his feelings never grew above a passing interest. The couple of guys Renji knew he had been with had certainly raised some eyebrows, but he had never stuck with anyone, male or female, very long after his time with Yuri seven years ago, and the whispers had soon calmed as Ichigo's disposition remained unchanged and relationships of any sort came fewer and father between.

He knew with a cutting truthfulness that he was responsible for those long years of isolation and dejection, and bitterness curled viciously in his gut. "Fuck," he whispered, biting his lip. He couldn't believe how blind he'd been. If the signs were visible to him now, shouldn't he have noticed them earlier? The careful avoidance of touch outside of training, the way he averted his eyes at times, the even rarer blush. The longing which sometimes revealed itself in quieter moments.

Renji shook himself quickly and followed Ichigo into the bedroom.


	3. Dirty Laundry, Part 2

And I give you smut! I don't think I'm the best smut writer, but I tried my darnedest. And won't be writing any again for awhile. XP This is the final part of the Laundry/Dirty Laundry fic series. :)

**Dirty Laundry (Part 2)**

Ichigo was staring down at the folded clothes in his hands, thoughts swirling violently in his head. It was an effort to force his mind back into the proper arrangement. Ichigo set the basket down on the floor. He dearly felt the need of these few moments alone; they were what he needed to regain his composure and he was thankful for them.

Renji charged into the room, but on seeing Ichigo's face all proper thought fled from him. His mouth hung open in an attempt to form the words which would not come. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say.

Ichigo slowly raised his hand, a throbbing weariness filling him. "Stop. Just stop it now. I'm not saying it didn't hurt - that'd be one big-ass lie. But what happened isn't your fault." Renji raised an eyebrow, the movement exaggerated by the tattoos and his uncharacteristic silence. "Well, you can't take all the blame, anyways. In a way, I was just as blind as you. But we don't need to go into it now. I mean, for fuck's sake, we just decided to be together. Can't we just enjoy that for a moment and stop the melodrama?"

"I'm sorry." Renji felt the inadequacy of his words and winced as soon as they left him, but the need to say something had overwhelmed him.

"Aren't we all," Ichigo said, not in an unkind fashion, as he turned back to the laundry on the floor, grabbed an armful of shirts and shuttled them over to the dresser.

Renji felt more uncomfortable than he had in a long time as he stood off to the side in the bedroom while Ichigo put away laundry. He felt too large for the space, in the way and yet unable to reposition himself. His eyes continued to follow Ichigo moving in that rhythmic pattern, back and forth between the basket and dresser.

Ichigo barely noticed what he was doing, painstakingly avoiding meeting Renji's eyes and thinking all the while about how to lighten the mood, how to reach that euphoric sense of connection they had discovered on the balcony. He couldn't stand this odd detachment any longer, the unease worrying him until finally a thought flashed into his mind. And then a grin crept surreptitiously across his face.

He abandoned the basket for the window, turning and reaching it in a single step. Renji watched his back as he paused, startled into speaking by the sudden deviation. "Look, I don't like this. Why don't we just –" but the steady clinking of the curtains cut him off short as they were closed, dimming the room with their movement.

Without hesitation Ichigo turned to face Renji again. There was something in his face that had been missing since he had first taken in those words out on the balcony, a steady confidence and strength that pulsed through his every movement. Renji was taken aback yet again as Ichigo moved slowly and steadily closer to him. The moment was highlighted in Renji's mind, the soft tug of Ichigo's shirt catching against his belt as his hips shifted, the muted padding of his steps.

And suddenly, Ichigo's face was a breath away from his own, the slowly burning passion warming his eyes. "Yes, why don't we just…," Ichigo trailed off, his lips sliding upwards in an almost predatory smirk before they touched Renji's own. The kiss was a completely different class from those which they had shared on the balcony, grasping and desperate as they had been. Those had been ecstatic, joyful in their own right, but now there was no hiding the lust growing from this new and different contact. Ichigo coaxed it from Renji with soft lips and hard tongue, the nip of teeth balanced between the two.

Ichigo's brown eyes never closed as his head tilted upwards to compensate for the height difference. He was watching Renji's reactions, drinking it in as the redhead sank wordlessly against his chest. Suddenly Renji broke away, pulling himself out of his daze. "Ya sure you're up for this right now? I mean, is this what ya want?"

Ichigo's moistened lips twitched in amusement. "Renji, I've know you for a long time and been attracted to you for most of that. While your concern is endearing, do you think I'd start something I couldn't finish?" Renji's uncertainty continued to crease his face, and Ichigo laughed, enjoying the rarity of seeing Renji thrown off balance by anyone other than Rukia. "It was feeling too weird in here, and I've gotta say, the most relaxing moment of the day for me was on the balcony making out." Ichigo's knowing eye was roaming freely down Renji's body as he spoke, letting his appreciation be clear. "Nothing like sex to release a little tension."

This aggressively sexual side of Ichigo was attractive, and more than that, but Renji was still shadowed by doubt. He shivered in anticipation even as he opened his mouth to speak. "Look, I don't know 'bout this. Are ya really sure you're alright?"

A quick flash of frustration colored Ichigo's face as he responded, his hands beginning to dance in annoyance. "Fuck! What'd I just say?! I'm telling you right now I'm fine." His eyes had become dangerous, the eyes he used on a battlefield, as he said, "Should I show you?" And suddenly Renji was pulled off-balance, Ichigo moving just a second too quickly for him as he grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly and decisively against his growing erection.

A soft groan left Ichigo at the forced contact, and his eyes softened into something much less brutal. "Don't try and take this away from me for something that doesn't even matter now. That time shouldn't mean anything anymore."

Renji felt heady, drunk on the knowledge of what his presence was doing to Ichigo, the muffled feeling of hardness under his hand. He normally had too much to say to him, easy banter which flowed endlessly between them, but now managing a few words had become difficult. When had Ichigo taken over like this? "Al..alright." And that was all it took.

Ichigo met Renji's own eyes, lust-darkened and bottomless, and began to lean forward once again. Renji felt awash in the flow of his movements; he couldn't quite keep up as Ichigo began removing clothing bit by bit from each of them. Shirts dropped softly, the clanking of Ichigo's belt on the floor shocking in the stifled silence of the darkened room. Pants and underwear were lost just as quickly, Renji's hair tie vanishing within the growing pile, as Ichigo's quick fingers and Renji's clumsier ones worked together in a peculiar and fumbling harmony. Renji couldn't help noting the new strangeness of their nakedness.

It wasn't that it was a new experience – sparring sessions at Urahara's with respites in the hot spring had quickly acquainted them to each other's bodies in a roundabout way. But there had been an unspoken understanding to keep eyes from lingering too long; the nakedness was to be accepted, but dismissed just as quickly as it was noticed.

Renji, freed from that old constraint, raked a more inquisitive eye over Ichigo, noticing the scars ragged on his skin, some newer and shinier than others. He was too thin. When he'd been younger, that thinness had suited him, but now he simply looked underfed. The sneaking suspicion that he had more than a little to do with the neglect of Ichigo's body struck him, but was easily brushed away for the moment by the contact of his hands.

Ichigo shoved him harshly down on the bed, a thin line of sunlight escaping the curtains to lie lazily across Renji's stomach. Ichigo was mesmerized; his dreams had been filled with blood red hair and harsh black tattoos for so long, and now he was able to see the real thing, lying ready and willing on his bed. He held himself back for a second to appreciate the slow stretch and bend of those jagged black lines as Renji breathed, the twist of his neck morphing the sharp turns and dulling the edges of the black under his right ear.

And then in the next moment he was on top of Renji. Hands rose between them, each touching the other, any hesitancy blown away by the thickening lust. Renji gasped as Ichigo's fingers tickled lightly down his side, teasing his hip and tracing behind to finally seize his butt with a firm and reckless grip. The pulse and tug of bare skin underneath their hands only increased the fervor as lips and tongues ventured away from each other to explore. Renji rose up to move his mouth across Ichigo's collarbones, sucking delicately at the contrasting flesh which was both soft and stiffened with haphazard scarring. Their hardened erections shifted against each other with every movement, pulling sharp puffs of breath from each in turn.

Ichigo bent his head lower, leaning into Renji's tongue, as his voice slid into Renji's waiting ear. "Do you know how often I've thought of what I would do to you if I ever got you in this position? How many times I've touched myself on this very bed while thinking about just how I would fuck you?"

Renji turned his head, tongue still half extended in a soft lick. He smirked. "You're more of a talker in bed than I'da thought."

"Mm, I suppose so." And a matching smirk spread across his own face as the hand not supporting his weight slid out from underneath Renji's ass to move around to the front. "Maybe I'd better tell you about what a dirty little fuck I like to imagine you as." Renji gasped as Ichigo's hand closed around him and tugged, slowly, rhythmically as Ichigo began to whisper his fantasies to the man who had inspired them.

Renji's hands lifted from investigating Ichigo's body to tighten spastically into his hair, the soft orange strands sticking crazily between his fingers. Renji groaned and added to the low continuous murmur that had become a kind of background music.

"Never thought you'd be such a damn tease," Renji said, interrupting the quiet flow of words. He was beginning to pant, and Ichigo's experienced fingers were keeping a solid throbbing ache in his stomach, without ever giving him quite enough to build to release.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, saying, "And you think you get to come early? The party hasn't even started yet."

Renji snorted with annoyance and rolled his eyes. "Well, damn it, then let's start the fucker!" And Renji released Ichigo's hair to instead grab his straining erection with a firm grip, shocking a moan from him as he began to pump far less delicately than Ichigo had.

His brown eyes shuddered closed involuntarily as the hand around Renji slowed and finally stopped, and the arm supporting his weight began to shake. "Re-Renji, I can't handle-" and Ichigo collapsed onto Renji with a loud smack. The harsh push of his breath into Renji's neck was moderated by his voice. "God, you have no fucking patience."

"You're one to talk," Renji said, grinning as he slid his hand around to palm Ichigo's balls as they laid there.

"Fine, let's get straight to the point, then." Ichigo was hauling himself up off of Renji's chest, the rich sheen of sweat streaking his skin, and reached into the nightstand. He lifted out the bottle of lotion and raised an eyebrow in question. "You game?"

Renji reddened slightly, and swept his thick hair out of his eyes. "Sure, but don't tear my ass up. I ain't in th' habit of lettin' just anybody do that ta me."

Ichigo started to pull himself back into position, spreading Renji's legs slightly with his own, but stopped short. "Wait, you mean you've slept with guys before me?" He felt his eyes widening with incredulity.

Renji looked away, feeling a little uncomfortable talking about past sexual escapades, and especially with Ichigo kneeling naked and erect between his legs while holding a bottle of lotion. "Just once, and I sure as hell wasn't on bottom."

Ichigo felt a rush of heat to his groin and a flaring of lust as another slow smile spread across his face. "At least I get to pop your ass cherry, Abarai. I'd say I'm a lucky man." He crawled forward until his face was next to Renji's again, who was still resolutely avoiding Ichigo's gaze. "Mm, not to mention how hot it is to hear you talk about being with another guy. I'm gonna need all the details on that story another day." And with a quick lick up Renji's exposed ear, Ichigo carefully pushed the two fingers he had discreetly prepared into Renji's tight heat.

Renji tensed, the unexpected sensation discomfiting, and shot a half angry, half startled look at Ichigo. "Hey, jackass, ya didn't even warn-" He only had a second to take in the devilish smirk on Ichigo's rapidly retreating face before he felt the warm wetness of tongue slide delicately up the side of his penis, and then Ichigo's mouth completely engulf him. Renji's breath stuttered in his chest, and he had to remind himself to take full, deep breaths as Ichigo began moving both hand and mouth at a steady pace, and the feeling of the harsher stretching motions were overwhelmed by the slick and skillful movements of tongue. "Fuuck, Oh, god! Fuck, Ichigo, you'd better not stop, ya sneaky bastard." The vibrations of Ichigo's muffled laughter around his dick only increased his arousal.

As soon as Ichigo saw Renji had become used to the stretching of his fingers, he backed off, Renji groaning loudly at the loss as he removed both his hand and mouth. Ichigo repositioned himself before asking Renji with a new solemnity, "Ready?" Renji gave a dazed nod, and Ichigo, eyes trained on Renji, gradually pushed himself in.

The heat, the realness of the act hit him, and the teasing and lightness which had quietly pervaded their previous actions were washed away in that moment. Ichigo shuddered, and as Renji stared up into his eyes he saw a need there deeper and more intense than any he had ever seen in him before. "Don't leave me. Just…don't ever leave me." And Ichigo dropped down so he could feel the strength of Renji's muscles moving beneath him, the solid heartbeat, and the slickness of sweat, as he began to move.

Renji hesitated only for a moment before wrapping his arms tightly around the other man, Ichigo's hands in turn gripping tattooed shoulders, as passion warped his normally solid voice. "I won't." The movements of both were gentle, dense and lingering with newfound emotion.

The physical pleasure was carrying away the last of the uncertainties and uneasiness from each of them, every thrust becoming almost a cleansing experience. Their heavy panting filled the room, seeming to thicken the air around them both. Renji could not close his eyes; they were catching on the startling blue sky revealed between the black curtains, the dust dancing slowly across the light. The moment was slowed and condensed between them, each pausing before the precipice as the building tightness released, first in Ichigo, the deep groans and his softly whispered name pulling Renji over the edge himself.

It was quiet for a moment as the pair regained their breath, lying unmoving among the mussed sheets in the dim light. Renji's hands tightened just a bit around Ichigo. Then Ichigo cursed tiredly, "Shit!"

"Wha's 'at?" The side of Renji's face was shoved rather inelegantly down into a soft pillow, red hair spilling erratically across his chest.

"I just washed these damn sheets."

Renji's barking laughter overflowed from the bedroom to fill up the rest of Ichigo's apartment.

***************************

So, quick question for those of you bothering to read this – did it seem odd or sudden that Renji was the bottom? Nobody ever really said anything on LJ, but I've wondered. I had always thought that was how it should be since Ichigo had waited longer than Renji, less patience, etc. And I like them better as a pair when they switch off top and bottom. ;P


End file.
